


Body language

by Brackish



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Almost smut?, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Clarke Griffin - Freeform, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Look out there's sports in this one, One Shot, Sports mention, lexa woods - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 19:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackish/pseuds/Brackish
Summary: Clarke's not sure whether her new teammate is flirting with her, or whether she just has unique way of saying things that could be considered flirting in very direct, hard-to-interpret ways. Either way, she has to sort this out so she can think straight again - which she hasn't done for a while; not with Lexa Woods around.Raven of course sees exactly what Clarke "Disaster" Griffin doesn't.





	Body language

“Pass it - I’m open!”

“Right here! Go - _go!_ ”

“Lexa - Lexa!”

“Yep - _Unf!_ ”

The buzzer rang across the gymnasium, drowned almost immediately by the crowd’s cacophonous screams. Clarke smiled, winded by their last play, heart thumping and head pulsing as the ringing grew muffled and blood rushed to her head, sweat clinging to every inch of her body.

She lifted her shirt to dab at her forehead. It was a hard fought game, but they had won. Clarke glanced to her side, her eyes catching _number 22_ , Lexa Woods, who flashed her a smile and a thumbs-up.

Clarke’s blush disappeared underneath her already reddened cheeks.

* * *

 

 “Yo, those were some sick moves, Griff!”

“Thanks,” Clarke said, trying and failing to be humble. “Not bad, right?”

Raven gave her a soft punch on the shoulder. “Like some Olympics shit, honestly - they have basketball in the Olympics, right?”

Clarke paused, frowning. She should know this. “The summer Olympics, I think. Probably not in the winter Olympics.”

“Well, duh.” Raven said, fishing through her backpack for her wallet. “Hey, do you mind if we swing by like - if we can grab a burger, or something, on the way home? I’m _starving_.”

Clarke frowned, glancing at her watch, her breath misting in the ice-encrusted gymnasium parking lot. “You had like three hot dogs - _and fries_.”

Raven smirked sheepishly. “You saw that, huh.”

“It wasn’t hard to miss - you were the only person in the crowd eating three hot dogs.”

“Yeah, but -”

“Clarke!”

Clarke glanced over her shoulder to the gymnasium entrance, where a number 22 jersey was jogging towards her. Along with the rest of the body that accompanied that number - _and what a body it was_.

Clarke quickly silenced that part of her brain. “Hey, Lex!” Clarke said, automatically beaming.

#22, Lexa, returned with a smile as she caught up to them. “That was a very good game we played, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, tota - _you,_ you were _so_ on fire, that whole game,” Clarke grinned. “Like, crazy good.”

“Thank you, Clarke, you’re very kind to say that.” Lexa nodded humbly as she pulled a small square of cloth from a duffel slung across her back. “By the way - you left your face-towel in the changing room.”

“O-oh,” Clarke stammered, taking the cloth. “Thanks for that.” She said, ignoring Raven’s quiet, giddy noises - it was almost as if she was enjoying the exchange more than the game itself.

Lexa waved her off, walking to her own car. “No problem - I don’t mind you looking wet, anyway.” She said, nonchalantly. “See you next week then?”

Clarke’s eyes widened, thanking whatever deity that was listening that Lexa was walking away from her, and thus couldn’t see her turn a peachy shade of pink.

“Y-yeah,” Clarke mumbled. “See ya around.”

* * *

 

 “So, what the fuck was that?” Raven said, rifling through paper bags of drive-thru burgers and fries. “Back in the parking lot? That was some heavy handed flirting back there.”

“What, with Lexa?” Clarke clicked her tongue impatiently as they pulled up to a red light. “Nah, she’s - she doesn’t mean it.”

“Mmphmmh?” Raven said, through a mouthful of bun and burger.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “She’s that exchange - from _somewhere_ in Europe. That’s what I hear anyway, so, like - yeah, she just says things like that without really - like, without any deeper meaning, I guess.”

Raven swallowed heavily, downing her mouthful with a strong gulp of soda.

“She said ‘ _I don’t mind you looking wet_ ’,” Raven said, glaring at Clarke incredulously. “Like, that’s pretty on the nose, Griff.”

Clarke shrugged, hoping _if only_ . “She probably meant it like, oh; _‘I’m glad you were exerting yourself’,_ or some shit like that.” Clarke mumbled. “It’s always been like that with her.”

Raven hummed, as she shoved a fistful of fries into her gob - as if there were any other way to eat fries.

“What do you mean _‘it’s always been like that’?_ ” She said, brow raised.

Clarke shrugged. “Like - I dunno… English probably isn’t her first language?” She said, as they drove off the campus grounds. “You heard the way she talks. It’s… very _learned. Formal._ ”

“Right.”

“And so, like - when she says stuff that _could_ be taken as flirting,” Clarke continued, unprompted. “She does it all the time. It’s more like she’s just being nice - or she doesn’t realise the, uh… the subtext.”

“She does this _all the time?_ ” Raven repeated, pausing for half a heartbeat before responding with a quieter, more serious tone. “You’re totally into this girl, right?”

Clarke stumbled over her breaks, which almost made Raven lose her strawberry thickshake all over Clarke’s dashboard.

“What?” Clarke said, flustered.

Raven rolled her eyes, grateful her thickshake had remained un-spilt. “C’mon Griff - cute girl says something off-handedly flirt once, sure - we can discredit that. She says it a bunch of times - she knows what she's doing _, trust me._ And it's not like either of you were trying to hide your lady-boners back there, from what I could tell.”

“That’s - that’s a gross turn of phrase.”

“But I’m right, right?” Raven snickered. “Look, even if I’m wrong - which, first of all - _unlikely,_ ” She paused momentarily for Clarke to prepare herself, and to savor her thickshake. “Humor me. What else has she said that _might have accidentally_ buttered your bread?”

Clarke winced. “Okay - well," Clarke paused, mind wandering to any number of memories spent with Lexa during practice. "One time, we were doing cardio drills, and she - she said I had _good legs_.”

Raven scoffed. “ _That’s_ flirting, for sure.”

Clarke shook her head. “But she said _good_ legs - not _nice_ legs. She probably just meant I was a good runner.”

“ _Probably,_ ” Raven snorted. “God, you and your _‘probably’_ s are going to kill me.” She drained the last of her thickshake, and discarded the empty cup into the paper fast food bag. “Alright, what else?”

“Do we really have to -”

 _“Yes._ ”

Clarke clenched her jaw momentarily. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t want to hope for a moment that Lexa wasn’t just participating in teammate camaraderie, that there really was something beyond the oddly formed compliments.

“She said I looked really hot once.”

“Excu - what the fuck?” Raven blurted. “How can that - how is not _not_ flirting?!”

Clarke groaned as she flipped off a pick-up that cut her off. “It was like - in the _middle_ of summer semester training. Everyone - _everything_ was hot. It was like a hundred degrees out.”

Raven stared at Clarke with endless frustration. She mouthed half-formed sentences, unable to comprehend the situation before her. She couldn’t find the words, until Clarke finally dropped her off at her dorm.

“You know what,” Raven said, leaning against Clarke’s car. “You should just ask her.”

“Ask her what?” Clarke said, leaning across the passenger seat.

“Just ask her if she knows what she’s saying,” Raven laughing, fishing through her bag for her keys. “Either she’ll say yes, and I’ll be right - bonus, by the way - or she won’t, and you can just brush it off with like a _nevermind,_ or something.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Raven.”

Raven’s voice echoed through the night, as Clarke pulled away abruptly from the curb.

“You know I’m right…!”

* * *

 

A week - a whole week - had gone by, and Clarke still couldn’t get Raven’s words out of her head. Where previously Clarke had thought herself to be happy in denial - and in denial about being in denial - Raven had cracked a window into her dark place of doubt, and the sunshine of possibility and hope seemed to burn her eyes.

She started to think that maybe, just maybe, there might be more to Lexa’s words than she previously thought. It was hard though - how could she be so bold as to assume, that someone like _Lexa Woods_ could say such brazen things - and _mean_ them?

But she was determined to figure it out - that being said, how could she? All Clarke had to do was look in her general direction, and her heart-rate would jump a cool twenty points. She was dark, mysterious, aloof, composed - almost everything that Clarke wasn’t. She was athletic too; the pinnacle specimen of the university sports star, as if she were sculpted from clay by the gods.

And damn did she look good in shorts. Clarke just needed a plan - 

“Clarke - !”

A basketball missed Clarke’s nose by an inch, drawing her from her aimless gawking. Clarke flushed bright red as she chased after the ball, a furious coach and a bemused, confused Lexa watching her.

She had to do it - if anything, to put the dream to rest.

* * *

 

Why did it have to be in the showers, though?

Clarke sat awkwardly on the bench, row upon row of lockers in every direction, the sound and steam of showers misting tiles and fogging vision, thought, and reason. All around her, her teammates wandered and bantered, laughing and relishing in their sores and aches from intensive training. It was crowded - and yet, at the same time it was the kind of crowd where people could find themselves paradoxically alone, and secluded.

 _“Okay,_ ” Clarke thought to herself. _“I’m just going to go up to her. I’m going to initiate this time - not her. I need to clarify this once and for all, and -”_

“Clarke?”

Clarke almost jumped off the bench. “Y-yes?”

Lexa gazed down at her with a piqued brow, an amused look curling at the edge of her lips, wearing little more than her shorts, and a towel draped her shoulders for decency. Clarke hadn’t realized Lexa had abs - and now, she’d never forget that fact either.

Lexa smirked, glancing away in an effort to seem nonchalant. “I just, uh… I just wanted to say - you looked like you were distracted during practice today,” She said, crossing her arms dangerously. “Something on your mind?”

Clarke laughed sheepishly, any ounce of courage she had summoned dissipating like so much hot steam around her. “R-really? I, uh - nah, I’m good.”

Lexa narrowed her brow. “Are you sure? Because you look like you’re going to pass out.”

Clarke dabbed at her brow, hoping the majority of the moisture was from the humidity, and not from her own flopsweat. “Y-yeah. I’m… I’m good, Lexa. Thanks, though.”

Lexa shrugged. “No problems, Clarke. Just remember to take it easy,” She said, laughing. “Either way though, you should join me in the showers. Relax after a hard game.”

Clarke jumped to her feet, red-faced and boiling. That was the final straw - something had to be said.

“A-actually, Lexa,” Clarke stammered, pausing long enough to regain some semblance of composure. “I wanted to talk to you - about that. About what you just, uh - about what you just said.”

Lexa turned back around, frowning apologetically. “Did I say something wrong?”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, no - no, not something _wrong,_ per se,” She closed her eyes, muttering a quick prayer, before opening them once more. “It’s just that - Lexa, you’re super nice, and - oh my god, so attractive, but that’s - sorry, that’s probably inappropriate - “

Lexa smiled, but said nothing, letting Clarke continue.

“I just, I just need to know,” Clarke said, biting her lip, heart racing. “When you say things like that… like when say I’ve got _‘good legs’_ , or that I’m _‘looking hot’,_ are - are you flirting with me? Or am I seeing too much into this, because - hey, because I totally get it, and that’s _my_ bad for that, so - “

Lexa’s eyes widened. “Oh! Clarke, I’m so sorry,” She said, reaching out and giving Clarke’s arm a soft tap. “I thought I was being explicitly clear in what I was saying.”

Clarke paused, the gears in her head chugging to keep up with the conversation. “Oh. Right - sorry, I just thought - ”

Lexa interjected, stepping in almost unbearably close to Clarke.

“I am _most definitely flirting_ with you, Clarke.” Lexa said, bemused. “I literally did not think I could have made it any more obvious.”

Lexa turned towards the showers, leaving a blinking, stammering, blushing Clarke Griffin weak-kneed and blue-screened, standing awkwardly by the lockers. She stretched, hanging her towel on an empty hook, revealing a rippled, toned torso.

“So, taking that into consideration - are you going to take up my offer?” Lexa said, winking. 

**Author's Note:**

> i certainly do enjoy procrastinating on my writing projects by starting new ones.  
> hope you liked it! thanks for reading :)  
> citriic.tumblr.com


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